


Toss A Coin To Your Witcher

by lachatblanche



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - The Witcher Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22901926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lachatblanche/pseuds/lachatblanche
Summary: Logan, the Witcher, runs into trouble while out on a job. Fortunately, an old acquaintance has been keeping an eye on him.
Relationships: Logan (X-Men)/Charles Xavier
Comments: 21
Kudos: 39
Collections: X-Men Rare Pairs 2020





	Toss A Coin To Your Witcher

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [Ireliss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ireliss/pseuds/Ireliss) in the [xmenrarepairs20](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/xmenrarepairs20) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Witcher AU. Logan is a world-weary witcher with a strict policy of not taking sides who finds himself breaking his vow more often than not. Charles is an ambitious mage involved in far too many webs of political intrigue in a desperate attempt to stem the growing tide of prejudice against non-humans and magic-users. The two have been on-and-off lovers over the years, and after a particularly harrowing witcher contract where both of them narrowly escape with their lives, Logan (or Charles, or both) is stunned to realize they have deeper feelings for each other than they expected.  
> (Bonus points if you throw in some of that grey morality, "humans are the real monsters" tropes that makes Witcher so fun! I also love disillusioned!Charles and Logan being the one to inspire him to hold onto hope.)

Logan lay on the floor, his arms trembling with effort as he held off the knife of his assailant, the point inches away from his throat. 

_This may be it_ , he found himself thinking grimly as the point of the blade dipped nearer, scouring a line of red across his neck. The thought did not cause him undue distress; he had made his peace with death a long time ago – one needed to, as a Witcher. And yet, he could not help feeling a deep sense of anger – of _irritation_ – at the fact that he was to die here, at the hand of a man and not, as he had always believed, by the tooth or claw of a ravening monster.

_Just my luck_ , Logan thought as more blood dripped down his neck. _Fight off a cluster of manticores only to get ambushed by a Witcher-hating posse_.

Fighting off half a dozen men would have been a piece of cake in the usual circumstances. It was just unfortunate that Logan had been up against the manticores to start with.

_Oh well_ , he thought as his muscles gave out and his eyelids fluttered close. _Everyone must die in the end. I just wish … I just wish I could have seen—_

The pressure on his neck suddenly disappeared.

Logan opened his eyes.

The man above him was frozen. The knife, which had previously been at Logan’s neck was now at the assailant’s own – being held, impossibly, by his own hand.

Logan stared. His heartbeat, which had been slow and steady even as the knife was pressed to his neck, suddenly started to beat fast, thrumming in his chest. The way it always did, when—

_Charles._

Logan weakly raised his head and turned his neck to the side.

Standing there, his blue eyes blazing, one hand at his temple, stood Charles of Westchester. He was wrapped in a blue cloak – _blue, blue, always blue, just like his eyes_ , Logan found himself thinking dazedly – and his gaze was fixed on the man above Logan.

‘Leave,’ he said, his voice cold as ice. ‘If you want to live, then _leave_.’

The man swallowed but was unable to speak, fear sealing his jaw shut. Fear was a common response when faced with the wrath of a mage; it was even more common when faced with one of Charles’s calibre, particularly when they were so uniquely skilled in mental arcana. When Charles’s hand fell from his temple, the man jumped up and fled, running as fast as his legs could carry him, the scent of his fear sharp in the wind.

Charles watched him run and then turned his cold, clear gaze onto Logan.

‘Logan,’ he said calmly.

‘Charles,’ Logan murmured. Then he knew no more.

*****

Logan woke to find himself in bed with none of his clothes on. This was not an unusual occurrence where he and Charles were concerned, but unfortunately it appeared that this time the cause was not a pleasurable one.

He took a moment to reorient himself. He felt whole and rested … his injuries had, quite obviously, been well taken care of. He could also feel the silk of the sheets against his skin and the luxurious softness of the pillow beneath his head. He smiled. Charles always had liked his luxuries.

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The scent of roses lingered in the air, mixing with the odour of ink and paper. _Charles …_

‘You are awake, I see.’

Logan opened his eyes and raised his head from the bed. Charles was sat across the room from him in front of a large vanity mirror, his head angled downwards and his eyes focused on the ancient book in his lap.

There were many things that Logan wanted to say to him in that moment.

_I missed you._

_Thank you._

_I want you._

‘How long was I out?’ he asked, pulling himself up and sitting upright, letting the sheets fall down to his waist.

Charles looked up and took a moment to coolly admire the sight of Logan’s bare chest. Logan was very aware of the gaze, raking from his stomach to the wolf’s head pendant that marked him as a Witcher, which hung low on his chest.

‘Just a day,’ he said lightly, returning his gaze to his book. ‘Not very long.’

Logan grunted and made to pull the sheets away so that he could get up.

‘As much as I would appreciate the sight,’ Charles’s voice sounded sharply. ‘I would very much appreciate it if you would stay where you are. I wouldn’t want all of my hard work to come undone.’

Logan frowned. ‘Hard work?’ he asked, scratching his cheek.

Charles looked up from his tome. ‘You had been stung by an adult manticore,’ he said coldly, his eyes icy and blue as they pinned Logan to his seat. ‘Which, quite frankly, was the least of your injuries. I am not one to boast, Logan, but if I hadn’t arrived when I did then I am quite certain that you would have lost the use of your left arm.’

‘I am grateful,’ Logan said gruffly, the words coming out more sincere than he had aimed for. ‘How did you—’

‘Find you?’ Charles’s smile was humourless. ‘You forget, my dear, that I am a mage of certain power, particularly when it comes to the mind. I can hear you when you think of me.’

Logan let out a dry laugh.

Charles turned to him, narrowing his eyes. ‘Why are you laughing?’

Logan shook his head. ‘Just – happy to know I’m always on your mind.’

Charles stared at him. Then he abruptly turned away, the line of his back going stiff as he held himself very still.

Logan sighed. He could almost feel the tension that filled in the air between them. Despite himself he found his eyes tracing Charles’s profile and, as always, he felt the familiar mix of longing and regret churn up within him. He opened his mouth to speak, wanting to break the ice anew and cover up his clumsy expression of sentiment, when Charles began to speak.

‘You fool,’ Charles whispered, his eyes turned towards the mirror, unseeing. ‘You reckless fool. Do you know what might have happened to you? Do you know how—’ He turned away, but Logan could see the way his chest rose and fell. When Charles next spoke his words were bitter. ‘And for what? What did you risk your life for? A handful of coins? For the brief glimmer of gratitude in the eyes of a desperate man who would otherwise spit on you as you passed?’

‘You know why I do what I do,’ Logan said calmly. They had had this conversation before. They had had this argument before. It always went the same way. ‘It’s the same reason why you go from city to city helping those who are in need and teaching those who come to you.’

‘Yes, but I am treated with fairness, with _respect_. I am a sorcerer—’

‘And I am a Witcher,’ Logan interrupted, still in the same calm tone. ‘This is my fate, Chuck. It’s what I was built to do. It’s why I have the abilities I do, the strength, the healing, the senses. What you’re talking about – the hatred, the injuries, the bad pay – all that just goes with the job.’

Charles was silent for a long while. At last he let out a sigh. ‘It’s just … it’s _unfair_ ,’ he said unhappily.

‘I know,’ Logan agreed.

Charles turned to look at him. His expression, previously cold and distant, suddenly softened. ‘I missed you,’ he said in a quiet voice.

Logan was suddenly ashamed that he hadn’t been the one to say those words first. ‘I missed you too,’ he said softly. Slowly, he raised his arm, holding his palm out in invitation.

Charles slowly rose from his seat. Logan watched as he approached, his mouth dry as it always was when admiring Charles. Sorcerers were famed for their looks and beauty, it was true, but unlike most of his brethren, Charles’s looks had not been augmented by his powers. He was not classically handsome, not in the way that others of his ilk were, but he was nevertheless beautiful and to Logan he was – he was – 

He was everything.

Logan watched as Charles reached out and put his hand in his own. Logan held it there for a moment, marvelling at the soft, fair hand in his calloused, blunt one. Then he tugged on it and pulled Charles down onto the bed beside him and enveloped him in his arms. Charles, without protest, allowed himself to be embraced and let out a sigh as he lay his cheek on Logan’s shoulder.

They stayed that way for a long time. 

Just when Logan thought Charles had fallen asleep, he spoke.

‘I know why you do it,’ he said quietly, his words barely stirring the hairs on Logan’s arm. ‘And I know what you do is necessary. I just wish that it didn’t have to be you who did it.’

Logan tightened his hold but said nothing.

‘You are a good man, Logan,’ Charles whispered, burying his head into Logan’s arm. ‘A better man than I will ever be.’

‘Hey,’ Logan growled, pulling away. He forced Charles’s head up so that he could look at him. ‘Don’t say that. Never say that.’

Charles raised an eyebrow, some of his wryness returning. ‘Why not? It’s true.’

Logan shook his head. ‘You forget,’ he said grimly. ‘I _know_ you, Charles. I know what’s inside you. I know what you’ve done, what you _do_ —’

‘Do you?’ Charles asked sharply, pulling away. ‘Because sometimes I think you forget who I am. I’m a mage, Logan. You say you that hatred and injuries go hand in hand with being a Witcher. Well, there are things that go along with being a sorcerer too. Intrigue, political manoeuvring, power struggles …’ He looked up into Logan’s eyes. ‘Things that I am _very_ good at.’

Logan inclined his head. ‘Sure you are,’ he agreed. ‘And I haven’t forgotten. But Chuck – none of those things make you a bad person. I know what you’re trying to do, how you’re trying to change things, trying to _help_ people. You’re doing it the only way you know how, the only way you _can_. And that’s what matters.’ He sighed, and allowed one of his hands to trace the outline of Charles’s arm, hidden beneath the silk of his shirt. ‘Look,’ he said quietly, ‘We may be different in many – heck, in _every_ way – but that doesn’t mean that you’re not good, Chuck. It’s like I said – we are who we are. I am a Witcher and you are a sorcerer, and that means things. It means we have different ways of doing things, different ways of being. It can’t be helped. It just is.’

‘It just is,’ Charles repeated, his voice sad. He sat there for a moment, his head bowed as if under an unbearable weight. Then he slowly raised his head and turned to look at Logan. ‘Kiss me,’ he said, and Logan was surprised to hear that the words were more of a plea than a demand.

Logan gently pushed a lock of hair out of Charles’s eyes. Then he once again wrapped his arms around him and, pulling him close, kissed him.

It did not take long for Charles to lose his clothes after that. The two of them spent the rest of the day and the night entwined together, making love, drunk on each other’s presence and yet made desperate by it, as if their union was a delicate, fragile thing instead of the lightning-filled tempest that it usually was.

They fell asleep late in the night, spent and sated, clinging to one another as if they would never let go.

In the morning when Logan awoke, Charles was already gone. A single flower lay on the pillow where he had slept.

The scent of roses filled the air and Logan closed his eyes.

_Charles_ , he thought, and the familiar ache filled his chest. 

Then he opened his eyes and got out of bed.

He was a Witcher, and he had work to do.


End file.
